


your laughter makes my chest ache

by Anonymous



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, i think???, inhalants specifically in case that's ur trigger!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25705051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: tord has feelings. he doesn't enjoy them.
Relationships: Tom/Tord (Eddsworld)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49
Collections: Anonymous





	your laughter makes my chest ache

**Author's Note:**

> hey since i know kids and young teens r probably gonna read this please don't pick up tom or tord's coping mechanisms in this story. genuinely. this story is a vent piece i wrote on my phone at 1 am based off a myriad of personal experiences. you can take my advice that it isn't worth it. if you already cope like this, though, you don't need to feel bad. i've been there.  
> please don't romanticize alcohol and drug use. i tried my best to not portray it as a wonderful thing.

Tom made his way to the door of his room. He'd been drinking - not much, but enough to make his body warm and his cheeks red. His room felt like torture, with lonliness biting at his ankles. It helped some nights, to just sit in the living room to watch a movie, even if he was still alone. He walked out into the hall, dragging his feet a bit, until he stopped just before the living room. A strange, chemical scent lingered in the air, very faint but still present. Tom swayed a bit too far as he stood in the hall, trying to process what he was smelling. He fell to the side, but caught himself. The noise of him hitting the wall was soft, but it still alerted the person in the living room. He saw a head poke up over the couch.

"Tom!" Tord laughed a little. "Good to see you."

Tord's hair was messier than usual, and his voice sounded strange. It was a little higher than normal, and his words slurred together as if he was struggling to move his mouth. Tom walked to the couch, leaning heavily on the back when he got there. He looked around, and spotted and open bottle of acetone on the coffee table, and he could guess what was happening.

"Tord, are you high?" Tom had sobered a little bit as he processed the situation. Tord nodded, and he made a short, high pitched laugh as he grabbed the bottle to sniff again. Tom's eyebrows furrowed.

"Give me the bottle, Tord. Time to come down." Tom reached out to grab the acetone. Tord tried to move, but he didn't want to spill the bottle on the carpet. Tom took it from his hands easily, even though Tord tried to hold on; it's too difficult to grip things with this kind of high.

"The hell're you.." Tord trailed off, unable to find the words, but hoping his point got across.

"Don't you train yourself to fight and shit? You're gonna fuck up your ability to move." Tom walked around the couch to get the lid to the bottle, finding that he still swayed as he walked.

"Ah," Tord waves a hand dismissively, "like drinking all the time is much better. You reek of alcohol." He didn't really, but Tord's point was still made and Tom's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He folded his arms across his chest.

"You can't be trying to pick a fight right now."

"Yeah?" Tord stands up, swaying as he does so, and tries to shove Tom a little, but he misses and instead just brushes his hand against Tom's arm. "Why not?"

"Wh.. Why not? Tord, I just took something right from your hands with literally no effort. You're not exactly functioning at full capacity here." Tom's expression is deadpan as he speaks, and Tord's hand shoots out to grip Tom's shirt as his face twists in frustration. His fist shakes against Tom's chest, as if he were about to cry, but tears never came. Tord looked up and his face was blank, not because he felt nothing, but because he had trained his face to show no vulnerability. Tom had noticed it before - he had noticed the different tactics Tord used to avoid vulnerability over the years, but the one that made Tom the most uncomfortable was this one. It was strange and off kilter, and mildly threatening. Tord's hand let go of Tom fell to hang at his side.

"Sometimes, when I watch you laugh, it makes my chest hurt. I hate it." Tord's eyes were blank as he spoke, open only halfway in an effort to show the least amount of emotion possible; but, he still hadn't regained total control over his body, and both his arms shook at his side, betraying the indifference in his face. He looked down, away from Tom's face, and brought his hands up to his own, pressing his palms into closed eyes.

"My head hurts. I want to go to bed."

Yet Tord didn't move, and neither did Tom. They stood there for a full minute, Tom staring at Tord and Tord staring at nothing.  
Tom's arm started to move, stopping halfway, before he found his resolve and pulled Tord into a hug. He half expected to get pushed to the ground, which he wouldn't really be mad about - at this point, he knows not to touch Tord without any warning. But all that happens is Tord lets out a shaky breath, not crying but sounding like he was close. He pulls back slightly so he can free his arms to wrap them around Tom in reciprocation, and inhales deeply, pressing his nose against the skin that connects Tom's neck and shoulder. "You still smell like alcohol," Tord said, but then muttered quieter, "smell like yourself too though." Tom smiles.

"Do you want me to play with your hair?" He asks, and Tord laughs a bit - in his usual way this time.

"Yeah. Let's just stay like this a little longer, though."

**Author's Note:**

> pls let me reiterate. don't try inhalants or alcohol if u haven't already. i have literal nerve damage and can't move properly because of using inhalants.


End file.
